


Guns And Pastas

by padfootagain



Category: By the Gun (2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 11:20:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootagain/pseuds/padfootagain
Summary: When Nick comes home wounded, you try to talk him out of his illegal activities.





	Guns And Pastas

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for an event on tumblr with the prompts :  
> 18\. “You’re more important to me than my own life.”  
> 22\. “I’m not letting you go this time.”  
> 27\. “You’re cute when you blush.”  
> 45\. “You’re a sweetheart when you don’t act like an arse.”  
> Hope you like it.

He knew you would be mad at him. As he stood there in front of your house, he knew he was up for a fight with you. The last time he had come home with bruises on his face, you had refused to talk to him for days, fleeing the house you shared to find shelter at your best friend’s flat. But it had been a hard day and he needed you. He needed you to clear his mind and make him forget how crazy and violent his life had become.

Since he was fully part of the Italian mafia, he had been called more often to deal with affairs that could only be solved through punches and threats.

Only this time the guy was stronger than Nick had expected and even though he had won in the end, Nick was badly wounded.

Usually he didn’t go alone to this kind of meetings. He wasn’t stupid enough to do so. But this time his friend was busy and the matter couldn’t wait.

If you saw him like this, you would probably kill him.

A small smile formed on his lips at the thought. It was only a figure of speech of course, you were the kindest person he had ever met. Perhaps you were too kind for your own good, too generous…

The proof of that was that you had forgiven him when he had vowed allegiance to the crime mafia. You were fiercely against it, and he knew it. But it was the only life he knew for himself, what else could he do?

He tried to take a deep breath, but his torso was painful. He hoped he didn’t have broken ribs. He was tired, and sore and in pain and all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and let you run your fingers through his hair and forget this awful day of his. So he threw his last hesitation to the wind.

He took his keys and opened the front door.

As he walked inside, his heart was beating fast. He just hoped you wouldn’t be too angry. He wouldn’t be able to handle a catastrophe tonight.

He heard your voice first, as you were humming a song to yourself. But soon, you were walking to the hall to welcome him home. You were smiling, apparently excited about something, probably some news you had waited all day long to share with him.

“Hey…”

But your voice broke as your eyes grew wide in shock at the sight of him. His nose had been bleeding and had left a trail of blood under his nostrils. His right eye was darkened and slightly swollen. He had a large bruise on his jaw.

“Hey,” he breathed, looking at you cautiously.

“What happened?” you asked.

He walked directly to the living room and sat down on a chair around the round wooded table where you had taken countless meals with him.

But you remained standing, leaning against the wall, your arms crossed before your chest and Nick knew he was in big trouble.

He had hoped he wouldn’t have to face a huge fight, but he was about to face a hurricane and he knew it.

“So?” you asked, nodding at his face. “Any explanation to give me?”

He stared at you, but he didn’t have to speak for you to understand what he meant. You snorted.

“You really are dumb,” you spat.

“Y/N…”

“One day this stupid game you’re playing at will kill you!”

“It’s not a game.”

You silently stared at each other for a moment.

“Are you going to let me bleed to death?” he asked, pointing at his nose.

“It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

But his gaze was so intense and you could never refuse this devil anything…

“Fuck…”

You walked to the kitchen and picked up a handkerchief, some water and a few more things you would need to heal his face.

You walked back to him, and he looked up at you. You noticed that a cut was crossing his eyebrow as well.

“Were you defending yourself? Or were you the one who was playing the bad guy?” you asked, failing to hide the bitterness in your voice, as you cleaned the blood that had dried on his beard right above his mouth.

You saw him clenching his jaw, but he remained silent.

“I see…” you breathed, and he could hear that your throat was tightening. “So you’re hurting people now? That’s part of your new job?”

“Y/N…”

You cleaned his cut, and your touch was so soft and caring that it didn’t hurt him at all. Your touch was feather-like, it had always been.

“You do realize what you’re doing is morally wrong, right?” you asked, your voice higher than usual.

He closed his eyes. You always had this voice when you were about to cry. And hell, he hated it when you cried.

He merely lowered his head, and didn’t say a thing. You knew him. It was his defensive behaviour, to stay silent. As if it could prevent the fight that was already raging between the two of you…

“Are you hurt somewhere else?” you asked him, your voice slightly shaking.

He didn’t move.

“I’m warning you, if I find a single bruise elsewhere on your body…”

He heaved a sigh, looking up at you.

Slowly, he passed his hand behind his back. And when it reappeared he was holding a gun…

“What..?!”

“Y/N, don’t go mad.”

“You bring weapons here now?” you shouted.

“Y/N…”

“No, no, no, no… I don’t want to know what you’re doing out there, really I don’t want to know. Because we both know I don’t agree a single second. But now you’re carrying guns in our home?!”

“I wanted to talk with you about that actually.”

“Oh really?” you asked, throwing the wet handkerchief at his face. “What’s the next step? You’re going to kill someone?”

He didn’t reply, and your eyes grew wide in horror.

“You didn’t kill someone, right?”

“No, I didn’t,” he said.

“Okay… okay, now I want the truth!” you said, and he had never seen you so panicked, so scared, so sad before.

It was like you were about to explode.

“Did you kill someone?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t,” he repeated, and you knew he wasn’t lying.

“Are you going to kill someone?”

“I have no intention to do so,” he said softly.

“Why do you have a gun then?”

“Protection,” he said, but you knew he wasn’t telling you everything this time. “Actually, I wanted to talk with you about that. It would be safer if I kept a gun in the house from now on.”

“Are you completely out of your mind?!” you shouted.

“It’s too dangerous not to have a weapon home.”

“Well if you didn’t play the bad guy all day long, we wouldn’t need a firearm!”

He stood up and walked towards you. You didn’t push him away when he rested a soothing hand against your cheek, making you look up at him.

“I just want to protect you,” he said softly. “ _You’re more important to me than my own life._ ”

A tear escaped your eyes, and you intensely stared at him, your next question barely louder than a whisper.

“Have they already asked you to kill someone?”

He clenched his jaw again. He struggled to look away from your eyes, but he couldn’t. They were like two beautiful traps he kept on falling into.

“Nick?” you breathed, begging him to answer.

You started to uncontrollably cry.

“You said that you hadn’t kill anyone,” you said.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” he answered, and he lowered his eyes, looking down at the ground, and he looked like he was ashamed, although you couldn’t see how he could be ashamed of _not_ killing someone. “I… I didn’t have the guts to do it.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him tightly against you, and Nick needed less than a second to wrap his arms around you as well.

“You’re not evil, I know you’re not,” you whispered in his ear. “And you not killing this guy is a proof that there’s good in you. You only show me this sweet part of you, but I can’t live like this anymore, like I’m ignoring this other part of you, Nick. I’m sorry, but I can’t. Because one day, this job will get you killed, and I don’t want to be here to witness it. I’m sorry, I’m not strong enough to do that… I can’t do that…”

You broke your embrace, staring at him as you dried your cheeks.

“I’ll go to Elsie’s place again,” you said. “I’ll come back tomorrow to pick up my things.”

“Y/N, you can’t do that,” he breathed, and there was fear in his eyes now, as he clenched his jaw, staring at you. “You can’t mean that…”

“I’m done. I’m done with all this shit. I don’t agree for a single second with what you’re doing. It’s wrong, Nick! And I know that deep down you’re not a bad person, and I know why you’re really doing this, and I know it’s not for yourself. But you could just get a job like everyone else. But instead you’re letting yourself drown. And I’m sorry, but I’m not strong enough to keep watching you fuck up your life. I love you, Nick. I really do love you, but I can’t save you. And it’s killing me.”

You sniffed, walking towards the door.

But Nick took your arm, holding you tightly enough to stop you, but not enough to hurt you.

You looked at him, and he had tears shining in his eyes, his jaw still tightly clenched.

“ _I’m not letting you go this time,_ ” he breathed.

“Nick…”

“Y/N, you can’t go.”

“I can’t stay.”

“Of course you can.”

He winced, staring at you with these deep dark eyes that knew how to catch your soul and imprison it every time.

“I know I’m not the best guy you could have,” he said, his voice an octave lower than usual. “And it’s probably selfish of me but… You’re the only thing I’ve done right in my life.”

He let his words sink in for a moment, before speaking again.

“You know you’re the only one I want,” he went on. “You know you’re the only one I ever had a serious relationship with. And that’s because you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

You were crying again. It was rare, these moments when he would actually turn his feelings for you into words. Not that he couldn’t say ‘I love you’ but… this kind of outburst, of genuine confession almost never happened. And the worst part was that you knew he meant every single one of his words.

“I know you’re too kind,” he added. “But I’ll make it up to you. I’ve always tried to. You’re the only one who can bring the best side of me. If you leave me, I’m lost. Come on, give me another chance. I know… I know you gave me too many chances already. But just give me one more. I won’t let you down. Come on. I’ll make pastas.”

“What if I really don’t want to stay?” you asked.

He flinched. You felt guilty for testing him like that… but you needed to.

“Nick… this time… this time I need to go,” you said. “If you really love me, then let me go.”

“Y/N…”

“You know it’s what is best for me.”

He nodded slowly, looking down at his feet, and he let go of your arm. He buried his hands deep into his pockets.

“Alright then…” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry. I hope you find someone better…”

But he stopped talking as you rushed into his arms.

“You… are impossible…” you said, crying against his shoulder.

“Was that a test or something?” he understood.

You nodded.

“Are you going to leave?” he asked in a whisper.

You shook your head, and he closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around you.

“Promise me you’ll never use this gun,” you whispered.

“I just want you to be safe.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. I promise. Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not leaving. I can’t leave. I love you too much for that.”

You heaved a sigh.

“Why did I fall in love with a bad boy?” you breathed, and he recognized teasing in your voice.

“Because you always see the good in everything.”

“I think I want pastas.”

He looked at you, drying your cheeks with his thumbs.

“How could I say no to such a pretty girl?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but blush. It was annoying, this power he had to make your cheeks turn crimson.

He smiled.

“ _You’re cute when you blush,_ ” he said, winking at you. “So? Pastas?”

“Please.”

“Alright. But give me a kiss first.”

“No.”

“No?”

“First the pastas, then the kiss.”

He chuckled, turning to the kitchen and walking inside the little room, and you followed him, leaning against the wall so you could watch him cook. He tried to pick up the tomatoes on the top shelf, but you heard him groan, holding his side.

You rushed by his side.

“Nick? What’s wrong?”

“I may have taken a punch or two…” he said.

“Take off your T-shirt,” you ordered.

He gave you one of his flirtatious smirks, and you rolled your eyes.

“So I can take a look at your…”

“Torso?”

“Wounds.”

He nodded, letting you take off his T-shirt. He was bruised but it didn’t seem serious to you. When you brushed your fingertips across the bruises, he didn’t react.

“If you give me the tomatoes, I can still make these pastas,” he said.

But he could read in your eyes that you were worried about him. So he wrapped his arms around you again, and he let you rest your forehead in the crook of his neck.

“I love you, Y/N,” he breathed. “You know I do, right? I’d do anything to keep you safe. What can I do to make you forgive me?”

You smiled, looking into his eyes again. You knew he meant troubles. But you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop loving him.

Your smile turned into a grin at the sight of his soft expression, almost sheepish. Because to you he was always tender and kind. And perhaps he was not altogether good, but you knew he was most definitely not evil. And for now, it was enough.

“You know, Nick… _You’re a sweetheart when you don’t act like an arse._ ”

He laughed, brushing his nose against yours.

And you finished the night cuddling on the sofa while eating his very good pastas…


End file.
